


Stick & Stones

by RedMoon616



Series: Matt & Mackenzie's Most Memorable Moments [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crime Fighting, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, F/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Vigilantism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedMoon616/pseuds/RedMoon616
Summary: Matt and Mackenzie go out on a mission that starts out great but ends up less than desirably. If that wasn't bad enough, when they get back home they find an interesting visitor requesting Matt's help. Will Murdock manage to get out of that sticky situation unscathed or will the familiar man from his past reopen painstakingly healed wounds?Fourth part of a series of short stories contemplating the sometimes usual, but mostly unusual, life of Matt & Mackenzie. A continuation (kinda) of Daring the Devil.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Matt & Mackenzie's Most Memorable Moments [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607302
Kudos: 2





	Stick & Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Stick's return after 20 long years comes a lot later than on the series, but there's a botched timeline that I have to try to stick to (pun intended). Now, how will he take Mackenzie's presence and her relationship with Matt? And how will the couple deal with the old man's sudden appearance? Well, keep reading to find out!
> 
> This is the fourth part of a series that focuses on the everyday life of Murdock and his girlfriend Mackenzie, and how has their relationship evolved after the events of Daring the Devil (which I recommend you check out first if you haven't, to have some context and back story). Hope you enjoy!

Tonight is finally the night we have been waiting for. I have been sporadically patrolling alongside Matt for a few weeks now, ever since he gave me the green light for it. Still, it was mainly petty theft and some perverts harassing women, so we didn’t encounter any real danger. So much so, that he even let me handle some of those smaller-time crimes by myself, with him watching from not that far behind, making sure that I was relatively safe at all times. Never got more than some bruises during those nights.

Still, a couple of days ago, we caught a crook doing some shady business at dusk –which already seemed odd enough since that type of perp usually prefers the cloak of darkness to conduct said enterprises–. Murdock roughed him up enough for the asshole to start spilling and he let it slip that there would be an upcoming big trade going down at a warehouse near the docks. We managed to get an exact address, along with a date and time, so we dropped him off at the nearest precinct before moving on.

Now, the time for that meeting has finally come, so we are currently looking out from the rooftop of an adjacent building to the one mentioned by the thug. We’ll wait until we notice clear signs of activity happening inside, and only then we’ll move out from the comforting cover of our spot. Thankfully for both of us, I’ve actually been here before, when I worked undercover for a now-disbanded gang, so I’m pretty familiar with the layout of the whole place (thus knowing where the electrical panel is at, as well as all the entrances and exits, which gives us plenty of advantage over our unsuspecting “victims”). We’ll see how this plays out, but hopefully, we’ll be able to wrap it all up nicely for the police to find and make the corresponding arrests.

The plan is quite simple, actually: we go in, kick scumbags’ asses, and get the hell out. Surely, it’ll be a piece of cake, considering I’m tagging along tonight (and I’m not stupid or rash enough to unwillingly put us both in preventable danger since Matt practically lectured the recklessness out of me) and thus Daredevil will have some useful backup. I might not have enhanced senses, unfortunately –although I wouldn’t look forward to being blind, no offense to Matt nor any other blind person–, but at least I can hold my own in a fight.

And if things get nasty, I have my switchblade and enough agility to get the hell away from any real trouble (like, say, a gun being pointed to my fucking face). Also, Matt and I came up with a secret “safeword” that I _have_ –and Murdock really put emphasis on my obligation to use it– to shout in case that I’m overpowered and he’s not in sight, so that he’ll drop whatever he’s doing as fast as he can to come “rescue” me (he used that insulting word, I said “assist”, we agreed to disagree).

Even so, I believe I’ll be able to manage on my own, especially since we are not supposed to stray far from each other once the real fight begins. Matt will try to take as many guys as he possibly can, leaving to me whatever remains. According to him and his “radar” ability, it shouldn’t be too risky since there aren’t many guys inside the building, after all. Either way, we are supposed to be separated only at the beginning.

Anyway, with the two of us on the same page, we set out to climb down from the roof we were camping on until now and head out to one of the rear entrances, which is the closest to our main target. We are to shut off the power first, as to use the darkness not only as our cover but as our element of surprise as well. And, yeah, I know what you are thinking right now: “Matt won’t have a problem since he’s blind and has enhanced senses, but how will _you_ be able to **see**?” Well, my good ol’ friend, that’s where the cool part comes in.

For the last few months, after I had a serious chat with Murdock about wanting to be his partner in “crime” (he really didn’t take that joke in stride), the madman has been training me **literally** in what’s called eye adaptation, which means that we have been systematically improving my “night vision”, to be able to see better in the dark than unprepared people, so to speak.

It entails a lot of boring processes, like gradually decreasing light brightness, spending every night just staring into darkness while Matt was on patrol; wearing red-tinted goggles (even during the day), and similar shit. But not only that, since my _dear_ boyfriend was also adamant to train my other senses as well, attempting to enhance them as much as possible, which of course included spending a shit-ton of time being blindfolded.

In the beginning, he would have me walk around the apartment and the gym, trying to figure out and map my surroundings, yet it didn’t stop at that. Once I was able to move around easily, the sparing and dodging started. At first, I argued that it was ridiculous since there was no way I would be able to sense _that_ much –I mean, I’m not the one who had her eyes bleached with weird chemicals–, but it turns out that he wasn’t as bat shit crazy as I thought. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not even close to what he’s capable of, by a long shot. Still, when combining the two training programs… Well, let’s just say I won’t be “as blind as him” tonight.

Actually, I’m still wearing the damn goggles, since otherwise my eyes won’t be adjusted enough to the dark and I won’t be as sensitive to any source of light as needed. Tonight there’s a full moon shining up in the clear sky, and although the warehouse has its windows painted black from the inside, I’m confident that the holes in the broken crystals will shed the amount of moonlight necessary for me to see; can’t say the same for the assholes we are about to bring down. Alright then, now that you have been adequately updated, it’s time for us to get the show going.

So, what we gotta do next is a little tricky and requires good timing, since I’ll be the one shutting down the power while Matt makes the first strike. That means that as soon as everything goes black, I’ll have to rush in the dark towards where the fighting is taking place. We couldn’t get much from our initial scout through the grounds, but we are fairly sure about where the gangs are meeting. The thing is that there are a few other rooms and hallways in-between, which means that I’ll have to navigate through it alone, in almost pitch-black surroundings, at top speed to be able to get there in time before someone pulls a fast one on Murdock.

After all, I’m not only supposed to be his backup but his aid and support if things go south. We are not expecting this operation to go to shit, but one can never be absolutely sure about anything unpredictable happening. That’s mainly why I’m here, to assist, distract and ultimately take off, of Matt’s plate, some guys if he’s overwhelmed by attackers. At least that’s what we ended up agreeing to, after some insistence from him. I’m not here to play hero, that I know, but I would be lying if I said I’m not looking forward to beating up some lowlife criminals.

Nevertheless, we have finally gotten inside the building, so far undetected, and I’m currently staring at the electrical panels full of switches, which look confusing as fuck. Thankfully, Matt has the good sense to point out which are the ones I’m supposed to flick to plunge the building into darkness. And as I get ready to start shutting it all off, Murdock lets me know that he will be on his way, instructing exactly how long I should wait before switching off everything, to not give the crooks any time to begin adjusting to the dark before Matt goes full ninja mode on their asses. After he departs, I begin my countdown, concentrating very hard on not messing up, since I know how crucial the difference of a second more or less can make for him.

Hoping that he isn’t caught unaware while on his way there –that, while knowing how unlikely, it’s still a possibility–, I reach the end of the time limit and turn off every main switch, effectively being swallowed by blackness. For the short span of two seconds, I hold my breath, being filled by the dread of the unknown lurking in the darkness, but soon enough my training “kicks into gear” and I’m finally able to remove my goggles, not wasting an instant longer before beginning my quick, careful, and silent jog towards the storage room.

At first, it’s all sketchy as fuck, since it takes me a couple of minutes to be able to discern major shapes like walls and doors, but once I begin to catch more of the feeble moonlight filtering in from every little hole on every surface connecting to the outside, I can increase my pace and move around more swiftly than before. Now I know I’m ready for the oncoming fight.

As I’m nearing my destiny, I can already hear anxious shouting, as well as intermittent banging, coming from the room ahead. I’m sure Matt is already taking the thugs one by one from the shadows, dwindling their numbers until they are just few enough to take head on all at once. Like I said, this storage room is mostly empty, but it still holds inside some crates and shelving that can be used to our advantage in taking out one man at a time.

That’s exactly what I plan on doing while enjoying the fact that they are all freaking out because they can’t see shit but _we_ can. I’m truly grateful in this moment for having endured that tenuous “adaptation” training, since I can see fairly well in the dark, aided by what little light comes from the outside, through the cracks on the windows. Only now I can completely appreciate the importance and utter coolness of what Murdock does when using the cover of darkness to his advantage when going against insurmountable odds.

And as I finally reach the room in question, I slip in unnoticed, keeping close to the walls and using the surrounding obstacles to stay hidden. Even if the idiots remain mostly unseeing, they might be able to start adjusting their sight soon, at least a little bit, so I’ll rather continue covered just in case. I don’t want to give myself away and draw all the attention, unless it’s explicitly needed, like say, if Murdock were being ganged up on and couldn’t get them off all on his own.

Until that time arrives –if it ever does–, I’ll do as instructed and try to subdue only the ones that stray closer to my hidden position, and then move on to someplace else before repeating the action. Luckily, we might take them all out like this, but I doubt it. As far as I know, someone could have already been dispatched to get the light back on and thus ruin our main strategy. If that were to happen, Matt told me to either step out of the room (but remain close, in case either of us needs help from the other), or hide somewhere if they haven’t seen me yet.

Let’s hope these assholes are rash and stupid enough to not even think about doing that, preferring to take out the threat before even getting the electricity working again. And even if they did consider it, I hope Matt took care of that already. Still, it might be a good idea to try to get rid of whoever walks closer to the entrance we came through, just in case.

Quickly ducking behind some crates, as I see some guy stepping closer in my direction, I wait until I hear his breathing near enough my hidden position before lunging at him as fast as I can, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and spinning swiftly to smash his head against the wall behind me. The man is out cold by the time his body collapses to the floor, and I’m free to move to my next target, whoever that might be. Right now, not only the eye adaptation thing turns out to be really useful, but the training of my other senses as well. I mean, at least my hearing, as I noticed ever since I walked in that it’s definitely more sensitive than it used to be.

It could be just the adrenaline running its course and sharpening all my senses, making me more susceptible to everything, but I truly believe that the special training is doing its working some wonders, after all. I sure as hell, can hear way more than I used to be, and I know that it isn’t just that I’m paying more attention to certain things instead of others. Being able to hear breathing and footsteps among the loud noises of fighting, and when someone is trying to remain as quiet as possible, is really something, let me tell you that.

One down, who knows how many more to go. Not wanting to make my presence apparent –would rather have them believing that the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen can teleport or something and is in more than one place at a time–, I walk away from my first post in search for another one, this time closer to where the brunt of the fight is still raging on. From what I can hear of it, it would seem as if Murdock is battling ten men or so at the same time. Fucking gnarly, but I’m not certain for how long he’ll be able to go on before he knocks them all out. It’ll be better if I dispose of as many satellite henchmen as possible; take down all those wandering around before they can even join the main fight.

And just after I think of that, I round a corner and come face to face with a wandering dumbass who looks like he can’t see past two inches from his nose. Jumping into motion as fast as I can, I crouch down and swipe at his legs, effectively sending him sprawling, ass first to the ground. The man yelps loudly in surprise before making contact with the hard concrete beneath his feet, then grunting in pain before starting to yell questions and threats packed full of colorful expletives.

Not wanting him to catch the attention of more idiotic thugs and have them coming my way, I kick him in the face (breaking his nose in the process) and send him to sleep for a while. Thankfully though, no one appears to have noticed anything, way too engrossed in their battle against Daredevil –which is apparent, as I walk closer still, that it’s getting bloodier by the second–.

It doesn’t take me long before I arrive at the center of the storage room, where the main fight is being held. As I predicted before, there are about seven or eight guys practically throwing themselves at Murdock, attempting to stop all his tossing and tumbling, MMA style (that's clearly succeeding in kicking all of their asses). It isn’t effective anyway, but I still try to catch the attention of at least one to lure him away from the struggle of bodies. My effort is successful and I catch the eye of one of them, who suddenly turns in my general direction and walks away from the rest of his accomplices.

It seems that between the swallowing darkness and the flurry of the fight, the thug coming over my way can’t see much more than the ones I subdued before; doesn’t mean that he’s any less dangerous, though. In all honesty, fumbling idiots just like these, punching and stabbing at the air with flailing limbs can be more of a hazard than regular ones –that can actually see well–, since their aim becomes way more unpredictable. And in this case, compared to the other two, he _does_ have a knife that he’s whirling around wildly in an attempt to stab whoever comes close to him. I’ll have to be extra careful in getting rid of this one, not least I want to end with stitches...or dead; how fun.

After thinking through the better course of action, while walking away backward and thus straying further from Matt’s position, I decide to lunge straight for the man’s arm that is holding the weapon, trying to either get him to drop it or take it from him. Unfortunately for me, this strategy doesn’t work up completely, and while I succeed in separating him from the blade, he takes hold of my neck with his free hand and begins to strangle me.

As I try to purchase any air available to my nearly crushed windpipe, I begin to scratch his arm (digging my nails as hard as I can) and kick at his legs. In the middle of my struggle I can’t help but let out a choked-out scream, which might be inaudible to the other goons, but I’m sure that if Murdock’s paying any sort of attention to me, he’ll be able to catch it. And so he does, if the abrupt stop of his sounds of strain and exertion is anything to go by. But then, said breath-holding silence is followed by a sharp cry of pain that gives me goosebumps as well as it sends shivers down my spine.

Something awful just happened to him, and I can’t aid him until I get this asshole off of me. As I start to feel the last reserves of oxygen escaping my lungs, I opt for using his heavy weight as leverage for my next move. I’ll end up on the floor just like him, but luckily, _I_ will still be conscious and ready to stand up again.

Intent on dislodging myself from my assailant, I grab his right wrist with both of my hands, plant my left foot on the juncture between his right hip and leg, and kick up and forward with my other one, managing to catch him unaware all over his ugly face and basically leaving a footprint behind. Unsurprisingly, this serves to render the bastard useless for the time being, taking him out in the span of a second and leaving him crumbling down to the floor in a heap of inert muscle and idiocy.

Of course, I fall on my butt as well but quickly recover after catching my breath. An instant later I’m already on my feet, rushing towards where Murdock is still presumably fighting off the rest of the gangs while bearing the pain of whatever wound they inflicted on him while he was distracted paying attention to me and my distress. God damn it, this is all my fault for not seizing that brute’s other arm before he could get a hold of my neck.

Nevertheless, when I finally get to Matt, he already has disposed of at least half the men he was fighting the last time I saw him, which is great, except for the fact that his breathing pattern is now more labored and irregular, and his movements have become more sluggish than before. Fuck, he might have gotten stabbed or something; we need to wrap this up ASAP. So, not wanting to repeat my previous mistake, I decide to just grab whatever heavy shit is closest to me and lunch it at the nearest thug’s head, efficiently knocking him down.

Although, this action brings the attention of Murdock’s three remaining adversaries towards me, thus making me a target as well. Right on cue, as one of them yells “there’s someone else in here, get him” (huh, how sexiest of them to assume I’m a man; what a bunch of fucktards), I sprint away in the direction of a couple of shelving units, to take cover and have the two men chasing after me split up to search the area. Hopefully, this will give Matt ample advantage over the remaining crook, so he can take care of him without a problem.

I can hear a muffled scream coming from somewhere behind me, and instantly I know that the guy who stayed back is probably now lying motionless on the floor. Awesome. That means that there’s a greatly pissed off Daredevil trailing after the two guys who are after me. This means that I can at least deal with one while he takes care of the other. Ah, such teamwork. Anyway, I hope he gets here soon enough, ‘cause I ended up at one of the corners of the room and since the two men after me took different paths, that means that they’ll end up catching up with me and leaving me with no escape route available.

Damn it, I better square up and prepare to fight both of these jerks at the same time, in case Matt doesn’t manage to make it here in time. And lo and behold, that’s exactly what happens as soon as I turn around right after reaching said corner. One of the men swings at my face while the other aims a kick towards my stomach. Before any of them can make contact with my body, I duck low and block the leg coming my way, pushing it aside to punch that man’s groin before lunging forward and making a run for the little opening left by the kneeling moron cupping his genitals and whining in pain.

The other dude gives chase, but after a few feet, I come to a standstill, right in front of Murdock himself (who, by the look of it, appears utterly murderous and terrifying; guess he doesn’t like other guys chasing after his girlfriend, especially if they have unkind intentions). Smiling up at my partner while trying to regain a more manageable breathing pattern, I simply step aside –with my back still facing the other man– and let the last remaining thug come face to face with an extremely angry Daredevil.

The fool seems to not be swayed by Matt’s crystal-clear fury and nonetheless runs forwards while shouting something unintelligible (probably scared shitless yet idiotically brave enough to consider rushing head-on towards a pissed off Daredevil to be the smart move to make). Naturally, the dimwit gets beaten down before he can even reach the devilish vigilante, but I still have to give the idiot props for at least trying, no matter how stupid and useless it was.

And with the last criminal finally laying comatose on the cold floor of this damned warehouse, that marks the end of our adventure for tonight. Now, all there’s left to do is make sure that these assholes won’t escape before the police arrive. Although we wouldn’t usually rush this part (or more accurately, Murdock wouldn’t), Matt’s hurt and in need of some medical attention –which translates into me hauling his ass home to patch him up before he bleeds out–, so we better wrap this up quickly so we can leave sooner than later.

When I tell Murdock as much, he agrees with me, answering positively with a grunt of discomfort. He’s clearly in pain, and although I can’t really see it, I have the gut-wrenching feeling that he’s bleeding profusely. We need to get the hell out of here about right fucking now.

We end up moving away from the dark corner where we encountered the last-standing goons to a more dimly lit spot of the darkened room, so I can see better Matt’s wound to assess how bad it is. Once I’m able to see it, I know it’ll need stitches and to get patched up as soon as possible. Still, we got a bit of a long way back home, so I’ll have to at least slow down the hemorrhage before departing unless I want Murdock to bleed to death on the Kitchen’s streets (which, of course, I fucking **don’t** ).

Not caring much about having my identity discovered, I untie the scarf I had been using as a mask to cover the lower half of my face until now and repurpose it as a makeshift bandage, wrapping it up tightly around Matt’s torso. Hopefully, it’ll hold on until we get to the apartment. All there’s left to do now is to secure and lock up the place so the perps can’t get away before the cops get here to arrest them.

After that, I’ll have to contact Mahoney using Murdock’s burner phone –since I don’t think he’ll be up to do some coherent talking after already losing such a considerable amount of blood–, to let him know about our recent “catch”. Only when all of that is done, we can finally leave this place. So, let’s get on with it then.

* * *

Well, that was a hell of a walk back home. I mean, damn, I was so fucking tempted to hail a cab, being stopped short when remembering that Matt is still dressed as frickin Daredevil. Guess the taxi driver wouldn’t have taken that lightly. Doesn’t matter, we made it back with a still conscious Murdock, which I consider a success (although I had been pinching him all the way back here, not wanting him to pass out and basically making my efforts to drag him onwards that much more difficult).

As soon as we set foot inside, I dropped him on the couch and went looking for the well-equipped medical kit we keep fully stocked under the sink in the bathroom. And although being aware of how serious the situation was, I couldn’t help –upon returning to the living room– a slightly annoyed complaint aimed towards a hapless Matt, who had tried to stand up only to end with his back on the floor.

“God damn it, Matt, you are bleeding all over the fucking floor!” I half whined in reprimand, feeling bad for him but also getting mad at his stubborn ass and lack of self-preservation (as per usual). He grunted noncommittally in response and didn’t argue further when I got him back up on the blood-stained couch. Fuck, that’ll be a bitch to get cleaned up, _again_.

Right after that little incident, I got down to work on his wound, which –as I had previously deducted– was a deep cut done with a sharp (and thankfully small) knife. It took about four stitches to close it up properly and securely, thus avoiding any further bleeding unless he reopened it, but I managed to do it and then bandage it without a hitch. Of course, there were a bunch of grunts, hisses, and gasps from him, but he remained otherwise silent throughout the whole ordeal.

Thank God, I don’t think I would have been able to put up with any complaint without barking back with my own. I don’t intend to be mean to him, least of all when he has been hurt, but sometimes he really gets on my nerves and someone has to talk some sense into him. The number of tirades and lectures I have already received from him since we met is enough to last me more than a lifetime, so save it now, Murdock.

Whatever, the important thing is that I was able to patch him up correctly, having received enough training from Claire to be decent at doing these kinds of things. Yeah, you heard me right, my friend. Part of my latest training regimen, practically demanded by me, was to learn basic first aid shit like how to properly suture wounds and whatnot. I mean, I was mediocre but decent before –and I’m still no pro–, but now I can be certain that the stitches will hold up under normal circumstances (see, no parkouring or fighting).

It was awkward as hell at first, but since neither of us held any kind of resentment towards each other, we could get past the initial uncomfortableness and work together to better my “medical” skills and to amplify the repertoire of the same. I knew it would come in handy sooner than later, so I’m very thankful that I put myself through that despite initial uncertainty. After all, we won’t be able to get Claire to come running every time either of us gets injured; like tonight, for example. At least I managed to fix him up and left him to rest undisturbed on his bed for the remainder of the night.

So, now that Matt is lying down comfortably and taking a nap, I can start cleaning up the fucked-up mess we left behind after that rushed and haphazardly put together patch-up job. I mean, there’s a shit ton of blood not only on the floor, but also on the couch (which I’m not looking forward to trying to clean), and I might even need to wipe off the hallways and stairs, all the way down to the ground floor since there might be drops of blood all over the building (and before you ask, as risky as it was, we couldn’t have made it through the roof).

This really is going to be a long night. And just as I exit our bedroom, I fully realize how right I am in making that statement, ‘cause there’s a stranger just casually standing in our kitchen, facing away from me. Who the hell?! Come on now, seriously? Can’t I catch a fucking break? Who the fuck is this asshole now? And I thought it couldn’t get worse than when Elektra showed up that one time weeks ago.

Now I have to deal with some other crazy bitch, and even when Murdock _is_ home this time around, he won’t be any good if this turns out to be an unkindly visit. At least this time I have the upper hand since the old guy doesn’t seem to have noticed my presence (yeah, after months of training I just became used to walking silently wherever I go). All I have to do now is keep quiet while I reach for the blade in my back pocket, just in case –although, going just by the tendencies present in our lives as of late, I doubt that it’ll make any difference, just like with Castle and Elektra–.

If he turns out to be a fairly normal fellow, maybe just a bit deranged or just an idiot breaking in, searching for some valuables, then showing my weapon as a threat will be enough for the man to give in to my interrogation. He won’t leave until he answers a few questions. For example, who he is, how did he get in, and what the _fuck_ does he want from either of us. In all honesty, I think I would rather prefer that this man is some loony with bad intentions than someone related to Matt in any way (already knowing what that kind of people come with a lot of shit themselves that I’m neither prepared nor willing to deal with; my plate is more than full with Murdock alone).

“Put that away, kid, or you’ll cut yourself before you can even get me”, says the stranger in what sounds like a tired and annoyed drawl. I was correct in my assumption –after seeing his grey hair shining in the low light provided by the screen across the street– that this guy is _old_. So, who the hell can this be? Also, how the fuck did he know I have a knife? He has been turned away from me this entire time, there's absolutely no fucking way that he saw…

Oh. God fucking damn it! I can’t fucking believe this. Are you fucking kidding me?! Is this _fucking_ **Stick**? Like, THE Stick?! Oh my God, things are gonna go to Hell reaaaal quick in here. Just wait until Matt finds out, then all Hell will break loose (and no, no pun intended this time, this is serious). Of course, it’s Stick, this dude is already being all mysterious and shit, without even mentioning that he _is_ fucking intruding. But now, what the fuck is he doing here then? What does he want from Matt? Don’t tell me he’s here to ask a favor from Murdock, just like Elektra did when she showed up. Doesn’t matter, I intend to find out just what exactly his intentions are in appearing here out of the blue.

“Stick, right?” I ask in the same bored and unworried tone of voice, not wanting my internal alarm to be shown. Just like with Elektra before, I know from what Matt has told me about his former mentor that I’ll have to be very careful around him, especially since my boyfriend is more likely passed out on our bed, trying to recuperate from the night's mishaps. It is when I finally speak up, though, that the intruder deems it fit to turn around and face me.

Now I can see his face, and my gaze is immediately drawn to the milky-colored eyes of his, which somehow manage to shine dangerously in the slight glow filtering from outside. Damn, the guy can be scary if he wants to. And I can’t help the feeling that tells me that he isn’t too pleased about my presence here, nor the fact that I actually know who he is. Don’t fucking care, though. Deal with it, old man.

“He told you about me, huh? Must be pretty serious then”, he says quietly but kind of sarcastically. He’s using a sort of tone that implies judgment, although I can’t tell if it’s regarding the fact that Matt is in a relationship with someone considerably younger than him or just the notion that he even is involved romantically at all. I remember Murdock telling me about Stick’s dislike for interpersonal relationships of any kind; he doesn’t abide by any sort of attachment.

So, I wouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t give a fuck about my age and that he’s just disapproving of my relationship with Matt (whatever it would have been). To think about being so lonely, not caring for anyone...even if it’s for the greater good, I don’t believe I could stand to live like that.

“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one with a penchant to drop by unannounced and uninvited as of late. Another former student of yours was here a little while ago”, I reply snidely, giving off as much of a “don’t bullshit me” attitude as I can. If he thinks he can treat me like a stupid and naïve kid, he has another thing coming.

He should at least figure that out easily; knowing his former student (and just by the fact that Matt _was_ his student), shouldn’t take long to realize that Murdock wouldn’t date –let alone live, work, and share all of his secrets with– just anyone, but rather someone that can keep up with him and his crazy, dark lifestyle. I’m sure he has already worked out that I’m not an idiot who can be swayed by whatever nonsense he throws my way. Still, my indirect mention of Elektra seems to catch his attention more than my passive-aggressive demeanor.

“Elektra. Can’t say that’s surprising”, he comments dryly, clearly half amused yet half taxed about having former students running around and into each other. Good God, must be a nightmare to have this dude as a teacher. Seriously though, even after all of the things that Matt told me about, I still gave the old man the benefit of the doubt –not truly wanting to believe that someone could be as heartless as to _abandon_ a **blind** kid who recently lost the only parent that he knew–.

But now, looking at him and listening to him talking, I’m finally beginning to understand how much of a bastard he can be. Definitely wouldn’t want to have him as my “sensei” or some shit like that. Still, just when I’m about to answer somewhat scathingly, I hear movement right behind me. Since my interaction with Stick began, I haven’t moved from the entrance that leads into the bedroom. So, the noise coming from inside is a clear sign that Murdock is awake and coming our way, certainly pissed beyond belief.

“Stick”. Comes Matt’s quiet call to attention once he reaches the entryway to the room behind me, leaning his left shoulder heavily against the side of the wall. Shit, that lone word holds so many different emotions that it’s overwhelming on its own. The rage, the confusion, the _pain_ , it’s all heartbreaking. God damn it, I don’t want Matt to suffer anymore; he already had a hard time dealing with Elektra, even if he had already moved on romantically a long time ago.

And now he has to deal with the man that for a short but significant time represented a foster father figure, the same guy who left him as soon as he saw that the kid felt even remotely familiar towards him. This is gonna suck _so_ much. If it weren’t because I don’t want to leave him alone (not only ‘cause he’s physically hurt but because I know that he can use the emotional support), I would just walk away from this fucking mess and let the both of them deal with whatever shit Stick is looking to stir up.

“Jesus, kid, you look like shit”, exclaims Stick unenthusiastically, sounding more disappointed than concerned, upon seeing Matthew’s deplorable state. Quoting him, ironically, I can’t say that I’m surprised. “I’m gone five minutes and you turn this place into a shitshow”. Well, that’s not nice. Fucking rude, actually. Whatever fucking “shitshow” is he talking about, anyway?

It’s not the apartment, that’s obvious, and I don’t think h’'s addressing Murdock’s rather battered form as of right now either –since he already did that–. Does he mean, what, the city? Is this all gonna boil down to some lecture about the war, and him trying to recruit Matt once again? I really hope not, because that always sounded like bullshit to me and we both already have our plates full of the ongoing crime in Hell’s Kitchen. Don’t need to add any mysticism to it, thank you very much.

“You've been gone twenty years”, retorts Matt, spiteful yet more resigned than I believed him possible during this exact confrontation. After hearing from him the part of his story relating to Stick, I imagined that if the man ever showed up again, he would beat the crap out of him for leaving as he did. I thought he would be livid, after how things ended up between them, but he just seems more disgruntled than anything. As if he were just thinking about how exhausting it’ll be putting up with whatever shit Stick brought to our doorstep.

Can’t blame him, though. I share that sentiment, although I reckon that not as much as he does. Still, I feel the physical need to stand between them, as the tension in the room has been already raised once Murdock appeared. I don’t want them to get into a fight only for Matt to end up with his stitches reopened and thus having ruined my hard work (not even mentioning the amount of blood that will be added to the already stained floor and couch). “What are you doing back in my city?” Asks Matthew all serious and mad. Yup, here we go, fellas. Now _this_ is gonna be a **shitshow**.

“Your city?” Comes Stick’s doubtful reply in the form of another question, obviously incredulous and even mocking. Damn, the man really can get on one’s nerves, yet he looks so fucking badass, even while being so old. How I hate these contradictory sentiments; same thing with Frank and Elektra. I really need to get a grip on myself. “You mean the one that is still being run by a bunch of ruthless assholes from the shadows?” Oof, that’s gotta hurt, man. That was _low_ , even for me –and I do resort to that kind of mean remarks from time to time, even having aimed some at Murdock–.

Still, just mildly unfaced, Matt responds with an exasperated and quiet “yeah, I’m taking care of it”. Okay, no, that was kinda lame, Murdock (even if truthful). You should have thought of a better answer. “You have been stabbed by a drunken dipshit with a pocket knife, you ain’t taking care of shit”, spits Stick almost disdainfully, as if he finds ridiculous the mere notion that Matt is managing to do good as Daredevil. “Not to mention that you have _fallen in love_ with an **actual** kid”. Woah, there, old man, what the fuck is your problem? I mean, just the way he said “fallen in love”... You noticed that too, right? So disrespectful, to _**both**_ of us.

“You stand on no moral high ground to judge and lecture me about who I choose to love. I’m not a kid anymore, neither is she”, Matt barks accusingly, taking a defensive stance and lashing out like a hurt and scared dog (although, scared of _what_ , I have no idea). At least it’s good to see that he won’t stand for people judging our relationship. Means that he has come a long way since the beginning when even he couldn’t accept his attraction towards me. I mean, he even went as far as to **cheat** on me just to try to distract himself from what he was feeling. Glad it didn’t work, tho.

“I don’t care either way”, confesses Stick dismissively, _clearly_ not caring what so ever **who** Matt is dating. Yeah, okay, you got your point across about that. Let’s move on, shall we? “What I do find interesting, though, is that you _trained_ her. Just like I did with you many years ago”, he notes with a twinge of curiosity lacing his words. And it almost seems like there’s a glint of intrigue shining in his unseeing eyes.

“Are you preparing her for the war, after all, Matty?” He asks in all seriousness, now paying closer attention to the conversation that appeared to be boring him a minute ago. Just what is this man up to? He’s not thinking about dragging me into this stupid war of his, right? I haven’t even been allowed to take on big operations yet, so there’s no fucking way that Murdock will agree to this, even if **I** do (not that I want to; I’m actually on Matt’s side on this one).

“That so-called war of yours remains bullshit to this day”. As expected, Stick’s last question manages to infuriate Matt even further. He looks like he’s about to lunge for the older man’s throat. “And no, I’m not training her for it, of course. I’m just teaching her how to better defend herself”, he clarifies somewhat uncertainly, which is unexpected since I thought that he had finally come around to the idea of me helping him out some time ago. Guess he still isn't a hundred percent behind it; then again, it doesn’t surprise me that much. Should have expected it, actually. Either way, Stick doesn’t seem to buy his half-assed answer at all.

“You are teaching her how to fight, Matty, don’t delude yourself”, he admonishes reproachfully, as if scolding a small child for believing something that it’s not true. “War or not, it still surprises me that you agreed to it since I doubt it was your idea and that you were willing to go with it at first”, he observes accurately, knowingly twisting the thorn on Matt’s side.

Damn it, man, do you really have to bring that up? Now Murdock will start to have doubts about it all over again, and thus I’ll have to try my hardest to convince and reassure him once more. “Am I right?” The old bastard asks after the heavy silence that followed his previous question. Either Matthew is thinking of a good way to answer, or he has nothing to say at all. Hope, it’s the former option.

“She can be pretty convincing when she is relentlessly insistent about something”, Matt concedes quietly, acknowledging all the time and effort I put into persuading him to help me get better. Oddly enough, he sounds kind of proud, even if still thoroughly annoyed. “She said she’ll fight anyway, so I could rather give her the appropriate knowledge and skills to protect herself or I would have to endure helplessly watching her end up beaten up, or worse…” Matt admits darkly, not being able to finish his sentence but making the implication clear enough. It still seems a bit surreal that he actually decided to help me so I wouldn’t end up dead. Guess it’s just silly of me, even after all the things that I survived, to think that I'm harder to kill than I factually am.

Nevertheless, and despite having Murdock defending me –sort of–, it does piss me off that they are both talking so nonchalantly about me when I’m still in the fucking room. So, of course, I can’t help but chime in with an offended “You guys know that I’m here, right?”, which goes utterly ignored by both parties. “Why are you here anyway?” Asks Matt all business-like, finally getting to what we _both_ want to know.

“To save you and everyone in the Kitchen from a horrible death. More or less”, Stick responds calmly, as if he were talking about the weather and not _fucking_ **death**! Jesus, what’s wrong with this man? Is he so cynical he’s beyond any sort of empathy, being pushed on only by duty? I will like to think that that’s not the case, but then again, he’s so freaking cold and callous that it’s hard to tell if he truly cares at all. Still, it would appear that he _is_ here on serious business and that he has come here to what...ask Murdock for help? Well, that wouldn’t be a novelty now, would it? I’m starting to see a pattern and I’m not sure if I still like it or not.

“Well, that’s rich, isn’t it?” Matt comments with a snarl, his expression twisting into one full of outraged disbelief. I’m pretty sure that he will turn him down, but what Stick said (despite how unfeeling he expressed it) really struck a chord within me, making me start to feel worried and anxious. What if there **is** something wrong going on, and we haven’t even realized about it yet? What if there’s a bigger danger than what we have dealt with in the past, lurking in such dark shadows that not even Matt can see it? I don’t want to wake up into a repetition of 2012 or anything of that like.

So, if there is a way to prevent mass murder and destruction from happening, I don’t care what we have to do, I’m already on board with it. Wanting to be the voice of reason –yet again, which makes me start thinking that I’m Jiminy Cricket to Murdock’s Pinocchio–, I mutter to Matt about Stick seeming to be serious about this unknown, oncoming threat. “Mackenzie…” Murdock begins admonishingly but I cut him off before he can start with any of _his_ bullshit.

“No, don’t ‘Mackenzie’ me right now”, I say in warning, already feeling beyond irritated with being treated like I’m no more than a guileless child. He really needs to stop with that shit. “I know that you are mad, you have every reason to be, but if this concerns the Kitchen then I think you should at least listen to him”, I tell him firmly, leaving no room for argument, even while _knowing_ that he **is** going to argue anyway. God damn this obstinate idiot. He really can be stubborn when he puts his mind to it, but this time I won’t let him try to walk away from the situation at hand, especially not if it concerns the lives of innocent people.

“Whatever he has to say is probably made of a bunch of lies aimed at convincing me to help him with whatever crazy nonsense he’s up to”, he retorts heatedly in an attempt to get his point across that Stick’s not to be trusted. I get it and I agree, still not enough reason to avoid a _horrible death_ –if the old man is to be believed, and he has given me no motive to distrust his statement–.

“Like that ‘prophetic’ war he never could be bothered telling me about”, he accuses while glaring across the room at the other man (who in turn merely shrugs his shoulders just the tiniest fraction, which I don’t know if to interpret as he agreeing with Matt or just stating that he doesn't care). Yeah, I know, Murdock has a point; but as I said, I have this nagging _feeling_ that Stick isn’t trying to bullshit him with this. He’s dead serious about that ominous warning that he gave. That’s it, I’m done with my boyfriend’s stupid and overly cautious inflexibility.

“Can you please stop being so obstinate for a couple of minutes? I swear to God that despite your heightened senses sometimes you're truly blind”, I ask as kindly as I can, already pushing the limits of feeling frustrated and bordering on getting angry with him and his unwillingness to just shut up for a second and listen to anyone else than himself. “The man is obviously here for a reason, an important one at that, otherwise, I doubt he would have even bothered to come in the first place”, I try to reason with Murdock, hoping that my words will manage to get through his thick skull and register in his brain.

“He needs your help, okay? And you might need his as well. So, for once in your life, get your head out of your ass and cooperate willingly with someone –even if you don’t like or agree with them– to save ‘y _ **our**_ ’fucking city!” I almost shout enraged, hating to be like this to him, but at the same time unable to help his stubbornness grating on my already frayed nerves.

Thankfully, though, my outburst seems to at least give him pause enough to consider what I’m saying. Great, he’s beginning to see reason. Fucking finally. “Hardheaded dumbass”, I mumble halfheartedly under my breath after seeing the dumbfounded expression on my dear boyfriend’s face, I know that they can both hear it, but I don’t really care anymore. Someone has to scream some sense into him before we end up all dead.

“I like her”, Stick comments amicably after a few seconds of tense silence, a hint of amusement present in his otherwise sardonic tone of voice. Matt and I turn at the same time to look at the other man –having been looking at each other until then– with confusion and incredulity marrying his face, while I wear an expression of surprised contentment. Well, at least it would seem that I have some sort of approval from him. Nice. Not that I consider it relevant whatsoever. Apparently, though, Matt doesn’t agree with me.

“Mackenzie, could you please leave us to talk alone?” Matt asks neutrally, wearing a blank expression and using an unaffected tone of voice. That’s obviously the calm before the storm, which means that he’s about to explode in a bout of rage against Stick and he doesn’t want me to be present in case things get out of control (knowing all too well that I would try to intervene and stand in between them before they can continue hurting each other).

I’m not okay with kicking an old man’s ass, even if he’s an asshole; I mean, I would do it if the man in question was _actually_ evil, but Stick only looks like the kind that does questionable things for the greater good. After all, he’s on par with Elektra and Castle, so I don’t have any real qualms with his moral code, I just don’t share it. Still, aware of what’s about to come, I silently nod in agreement, feeling a dreadful sense of deja vú coming over me. This is just like when Elektra showed up. “Thank you”, Matt says in a low whisper and a tiny smile, the frown on his brow softening a little bit. If he weren't so cute, I’ll punch him in the arm for throwing me out for the second time in the past few months.

I know that he needs to have this talk in private with Stick, but it still hurts a little to be dismissed like this. At least I don’t have to worry about Stick trying to seduce Murdock while I’m out (well, I mean, not in the kind of way that Elektra would have). “Oh, and this time you are not coming along, no matter what you say”, he adds without missing a beat, stating implicitly that he _**won’t**_ change his mind about that. Too tired to even attempt to fight back, I mutter a low “whatever”, and head for the door to the rooftop.

“You know I don’t condone having attachments, Matty, but at least this one isn’t so bad, everything considered”, I hear Stick comment conversationally before I close the roof door behind my back. I would love to hear what they will talk about, even if it would be an invasion of privacy, but I don’t have super hearing like they do. Whatever, I’m sure I will find out sooner or later, from Murdock himself. So, I shouldn’t be worrying about it too much as of now. Instead, I should be thinking about what it could be that it’s looming over our unknowing heads.

The fact that this time I won’t be allowed to tag along, even if playing a relatively low-risk role, unnerves me the most. I would like to trust Stick in that he wouldn’t allow Matt to get hurt, but then again, he abandoned him twenty years ago when Murdock most needed someone to help him. He was so lost back then. Although, I don’t even want to imagine what could’ve become of him if Stick had _stuck_ around… Yeah, I know, lame pun, don’t even mention it.

* * *

Hi, how are you? Good? That’s great. Bad? Then I hope you see better times soon enough; just hang in there and stay strong. Matthew and me, you ask? Well...let me give you a little recap of what happened after I went to the roof. Matt and Stick chatted up for a little while and –eventually– Murdock agreed to help out his former mentor. Upon striking that deal, he came up looking for me, to tell me that I could go back inside and to give me a heads up that the mission would be that night, so he would be leaving me for an uncertain amount of time.

They left shortly after that, going to the dock to intercept the arrival of a shipment. I tried to not worry too much while waiting (medical kit right next to me on the bed) and eventually I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. It had been a long night for me, after all. And even longer for Matthew, who went along despite carrying a deep stab wound on his side, that should have rendered him useless for a couple of days at least, the relentless idiot. I even pointed it out to him, but he shrugged it off and told me that he would be careful to not reopen it. Impressively enough, he managed to not do so during the fight happening at the docks. But he did once he returned home.

And you’re probably wondering how something like that could happen. Was it that we indulged in wild, heated sex as a form of celebrating a successful mission, upon his arrival? No, it’s far worse and stupider than that. Turns out that the mission entailed killing a “child” (and I use quotation marks on that word because according to the men’s different recounts of what happened, it could be a child or it could not be even _human_ ; don’t know, can’t say), to which of course Matthew objected.

At first, he had managed to stop Stick from shooting the “kid” with an arrow, but then the older male ditched his former student to go after the escaping van –that carried the supposed weapon, the “child”, and that guy Nobu, who I think Matt fought before–. Once they met back at the apartment, they had an argument, with Murdock confronting Stick about his murderous attempt and the other man correcting the younger one, revealing that he managed to catch up with the fleeing vehicles to kill the kid, after all.

That, of course, turned the verbal fight into a physical one, and thus the lawyer ended up reopening the stitches that I later had to painstakingly close once more after Stick had finally left. I think they even got talking about the Elektra ordeal, which made the scuffle even more violent, but I think that none of that excuses destroying part of the apartment.

And you are probably wondering as well what I was doing during all that mess. Well, first of all, I was abruptly awoken by Matt coming down from the roof into the apartment and then confronting Stick about what went down. As soon as I heard the quickly-escalating argument I stepped outside of the bedroom only to find an already full-blown fight taking place in the middle of the apartment. Let me tell you, it was gory and nasty. At one point even, I attempted to step in, but Matt ordered me to stay out of it; that he would handle it on his own. He did, but he suffered the consequences, ending up staining even more the barely unscathed couch while I patched him up _again_.

The bedroom sliding door was thrown off its hinges, and the plastic panel of which it was made was broken. The coffee table was shattered and the couch upturned. Aside from that, a few things were thrown all over the place or knocked over, but it’s nothing that we can’t fix. The worst damage was sustained by the door and the table, and Murdock as well, of course. But after I stitched him and put him back to rest, and cleaned up around a bit, I settled again for the night and talked things with Matt, who vented out everything that happened and that he was feeling.

In the midst of that, I handed him a paper bracelet that I found amongst the mess, and then he nearly broke down in tears. We slept cuddled close together, and he promised that he wouldn’t let Stick back into his life ever again. We’ll see how long that lasts, I guess. After all, I suppose he felt the same way about Elektra, around ten years ago.

**Author's Note:**

> As I stated already multiple times, this is just me not wanting to part with the characters but not wanting to commit to another long fanfic as well. Also, as opposite to Daring the Devil, these short pieces are supposed to be more lighthearted and fun than their predecessor. As always, thanks for reading.


End file.
